Shattered Dreamer
by reveur-de-minuit
Summary: During her final year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger finds herself facing one of life's most difficult challenges yet: isolation. Her days are spent yearning for another chance at life, but her nights revolve around the only person who can offer her comfort. But is he real, or just a figment of her imagination? This is my first story. Rated M for a reason.
1. Isolation

_**Synopsis:** During her final year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger finds herself facing one of life's most difficult challenges yet: isolation. Her days are spent yearning for another chance at life, but her nights revolve around the only person who can offer her comfort. But is he real, or just a figment of her imagination? This is my first story. Rated M for a reason. _

_**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the characters, setting, or anything else worthy of mention besides the plot. J.K. Rowling created this world, I'm just having fun with it._

_**A.N.: **This is just a forewarning. This is not going to be a light, fluffy, filled with love and rainbows kind of fanfic. It deals with some more disturbing elements, and dark themes. If this isn't your cup of tea, then don't bother drinking it.  
_

_Anyway, Enjoy :)_

* * *

_"They say that dreams are a way of escaping reality. That in the midst of a dream, all that is real and tangible is forgotten, and our subconscious mind can finally convey its desperate messages. We never really know ourselves unless we are in a dream. But what if dreams weren't an escape? What if the sole purpose was to torment the mind with false promises and a false sense of reality? That is when the line between what is real and what is a dream begins to blur. What is deception, what is fact? The two become so closely intertwined that neither can be properly deciphered from the other. The two begin to coexist. The two become one meaning. One entity. The juxtaposition falling together to create one seamless almost reality._

_That is when you transcend all consciousness._

_That is when you truly escape the confines of reality." - Hermione Granger's Journal_

* * *

Hermione Granger stared at the parchment in her palm. Willing her fatigued mind to have read the inked words wrong. She read the message again. And again. And again. Each time the words sunk in a little bit more, her understanding ran a little bit deeper. She should be used to the hurt accompanied by the words by now. But she wasn't. Hot tears begun to sting her eyes, blurring the sentences that already repeated within her head.

_Hermione,_

_You know, I was considering all the ways to wipe that self-satisfied contentment off of your face, but decided against it. Why didn't I go ahead and do that? Because it would be too easy. You're too easy. Next time you let someone between your legs, just remember this: you deserve it. I hope everyone else who falls victim to your tricks will use you like the whore you are. Even if it doesn't exist, have a nice time in Hell._

_Ron_

The pang of raw pain beat within her chest. Her air was lost within her throat. He didn't care. He didn't understand. He didn't even give her a chance to explain. But it didn't matter, he was gone. The boy she had liked for most of her time at Hogwarts abhorred her.

She willed the tears to go away, refusing for anyone to see her vulnerable. She glanced about the Great Hall, taking in those around her who were laughing, talking, acting as though nothing would ever go wrong ever again. And she envied them. It was all too much, the sights of others being so at ease with their companions. Reluctantly, Hermione gazed along the extensive wooden table, only to lock eyes with another person who wished a dementor's kiss on her. Ginny Weasly, girlfriend of the infamous Harry Potter. The Golden Boy. The Boy-Who-Lived. The boy who was too quick to side with his male companion to listen to the girl who they owe their lives to. And sister to the one man she thought she couldn't live without. She couldn't do it. . .say or think of his name. It was too soon. The pain too raw.

Glancing back at the redhead, Hermione locked eyes with her again. If Hermione had any doubts about Ginny's loathing towards her, they were expelled with that single venomous glint in her eyes. Hermione felt betrayed and hurt.

A shadow cast a silhouette upon the table before her. She dropped her eyes from her withering glare. When the person cleared their throat, Hermione glanced up at the person. A timid-looking fifth year from Hufflepuff stood opposite of her, a few pieces of paper held firmly within her grasp.

"Hermione Granger?" She squeaked, unable to hide the fear from her voice.

"May I help you?" Hermione was affronted, but attempted to smile nonetheless. She was sure it was more of a grimace.

"I was j-just w-wondering if you, by any chance, perhaps, maybe-"

"Get on with it." Hermione interrupted. If there was anything that annoyed her most, it was people who purposely stalled. It showed their cowardice of a simple answer to a question. It reflected her own fears.

"Well, canimaybeborrowyourpotionsho mework?" The young girl rushed out. Hermione was positive the girl hadn't spoken English.

"I beg your pardon?" She asked, unable to decipher the hastened mumble.

The girl took a deep breath, steeling herself for her question.

"Can I maybe borrow your potions homework?" Hermione's entire body sagged under an unknown pressure. She knew it was too good to be true that anyone actually wanted to talk to her. She was still just the girl who got snubbed by the Golden Duo anyway.

Maybe people would come around, but with her current track record, she would be more likely befriending a wild hippogriff.

With all of the remaining strength within her, she glared at the girl. The Hufflepuff's eyes widened before she spun around on her heel and fled. She sighed. Hermione hadn't meant to scare her off, but she was sick of that feeling. The feeling of others using her, and letting her down.

She knew who was to blame for her current mindset. Those people who abused her, hurt her in their own way, leaving her a shell filled with nothing but the lonely companion of self-loathing. The hatred towards herself grew stronger with each passing day. Every day that people looked towards her like the know-it-all freak she was.

They were gone. Both of them. Harry. Ron. Initially she had pleaded, doing anything in her power to try and work things out between the three of them. But it was no use. The era of the Golden Trio had come to an end.

They all hated her. She hated herself. When the two had turned their backs on her, so had the rest of the school. She had no social life. There was nothing to live for anymore. She was worthless in the minds of others. She was a waste of space. A blemish on the house of bravery. She was nothing but a bothersome bookworm.

Laughs echoed all around her, torturing her with their sweet harmony. Why couldn't she be lucky enough to have the simple request of one friend? Just one person who felt that she was someone who needed to live. But there was no one. She was all alone. No one cared. No one would ever care. Her life wasn't of any value. She felt nausea flip her stomach. She needed to get out. She needed to get away from the objects of her suffering.

Whenever she thought about it, she could never understand. Was she truly that abnormal? That much of a freak? Was she so quixotic that not even those who are titled as '_nice_' would look at her without disgust shining in their eyes? Yes. Yes, she was. She thought back to her most recent quarrel with Lavender Brown. Her opinion was worth nothing to those around her. She was a shell devoid of all human emotion. A person who's only use was to ensure a perfect test result. She was a punching bag, someone who people could come to if they needed to vent their frustrations, but never allowing her to do the same in return. People didn't care about her, and they had no reason to. She was a nobody.

She felt her stomach drop to her knees as she hastened out of the Great Hall. She couldn't stand to be around people. She loathed each and every one of them in that moment, simply because they would never have to endure the self-destruction of true loneliness. Tears pricked her eyes, temporarily blurring her vision. She couldn't stand it anymore. She hated herself. She abhorred the loathsome, disgusting creature she had become. Hermione Granger had broken.


	2. Fear

_**A.N.:** Thank you so much for reading! I'll try to update maybe twice or three times a week, just to set up some kind of routine. And I know it's slow in the beginning, but it's worth it, I promise! Enjoy :)_

* * *

_"You can feel it eating away at your soul. Bit, by bit until there's nothing left of the person you once were. Every action you make, you question. Every time you speak, you question the words that come out of your mouth. It's slowly ebbing away at your consciousness. There are only four phrases going through your mind, repeating themselves over and over like a broken record player. You are worthless. You are alone. You are a failure. You are nothing." - _Hermione Granger's Journal.

* * *

Hermione went back to her dormitory. Dinner hour or not she was decidedly not hungry anymore. Normally she would take her time, allow herself to wonder what it was like to have wandered the halls centuries prior. But today was different. Today, she ran. She almost let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the Fat Lady at the end of the corridor. She all but screamed the password, anxious to be inside.

As soon as she passed through the portrait, she hesitated. She gazed upon the common room, really looking at it for the first time since entering the school. She looked at its dashing reds, gilded bronze, and comfortable, squishy chairs. The common room, filled with its rich tapestries and homely furniture, had become her personal Hell.

Hermione held her breath, pondering whether or not she should go up to her room. An odd sense of detachment overcame her as she gazed on at her fellow students. Most were still at dinner, but a few stayed behind. A pair of third years sat together on the couch, obviously hinting at more than just a 'study session'. A few others were scattered about the room, doing homework or reading.

Hermione slouched against the cool stone wall of the entrance. She didn't feel like running anymore, but she didn't feel like staying either. Fatigue scratched at her eyes, but she pointedly ignored it. If Ginny were to come back early, she'd have to deal with her. Hermione was so sick of fighting. She longed to go to her bed, but she couldn't risk falling asleep and Ginny acting out on her latest mean streak.

With that final thought, Hermione turned around, leaving the common room. She walked to the seventh floor, turning left down the Hall of Hexes. She gazed at the wall, opposite the hideous tapestry of an attempted troll ballet, and began to pace. She paced three times along its length, imagining what she wanted. She glanced at the stone wall. A frown weighed on her lips. The door didn't appear. She paced again, stating the exact list in her head of what she wanted. She looked to the wall again. It's smooth surface almost seemed to mock her. Were her problems not important enough to the Room of Requirement?

She sighed, wondering what she did to deserve the cold shoulder from the room. Bitterly, she thought that even magical architecture couldn't stand her. She began pacing a third time, needing to know that at least she tried. She considered casting a quick Dissendium charm, but knew it was futile. The door wouldn't appear as a passageway.

Something was off. She could feel it. A warning tingled through her gut, instinctively telling her to grab her wand. She needed to feel the cool wood against her palm. She listened for any sounds, any footfalls or movements. The magical candles one by one began to go off. It started at the opposite end of the hallway, coming ever closer to Hermione. She gripped tighter onto her wand, listing off a string of hexes and spells that she could use if attacked. The darkness was coming closer to her. She should have run. She should have done anything but stay where she was, but she couldn't move. Her mind was screaming to run, but her feet stayed where they were.

The darkness was coming closer. A pang of fear swelled in her chest. She fought to suppress it. Nothing rational happened when fear was instilled within you. It wasn't a normal darkness though. It was all encompassing, swallowing the light it came across. It was an opaque blanket, promising an absolute void within.

"Lumos" She whispered, knowing that the spell wouldn't prevent the darkness. A harsh wind picked up, sending her hair in all directions. She needed to go, now. But she couldn't. She supposed one of her biggest downfalls was an insatiable curiosity, and this had her curiosity peaked. The wind picked up even more, the glass of the windows shattering. a high-pitched sound ricocheted off of the walls. Hermione covered her ears. It hurt. It was so loud, digging itself inside her head. She felt like screaming. A pressure weighed down on her limbs. This time she did scream. It felt as though her bones were being slowly crushed under some force. What kind of dark magic was this? Tears fell down her cheeks from the force of everything coming together. Her throat was hoarse from screaming. She knew she should have run. Her lumos was swallowed by the darkness. She couldn't see. She could only feel the crushing weight and wind. Her ears were ringing from the shrill sound it produced.

Hermione strained her eyes in the darkness. That was when she saw it. A figure made of all shadows came from within the void. It's body looked to be made up of black smoke. It moved like a dementor, its movements slow and graceful. It screamed death. It came closer. Hermione took two steps back and turned around preparing to run, but she couldn't move. As though she was in a full body bind, the figure spun her around, coming inches away from Hermione. She held her breath as the stench of decay exuded the figure in waves. It had no face, much like a dementor, but Hermione knew that they were not the same. This was different. This was an entirely new creature of execrable malice.

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione screamed, snapped out of her reverie. Nothing happened. Fear gripped her heart, panic coursing through her veins.

_"Herrr. . .miiii. . .ooonneeee"_ The voice was indecipherable. It grated on her ears, causing her to scream in pain at the simple sound.

_"Herrmiiiooneee" _She felt dread settle into her stomach. No. . .it couldn't. . .there's no way. . .

_"Hermiionee" _For the first time, she let herself sob in the presence of the thing that caused her fear.

_"Hermione" _She screamed, willing it to just dispose of her already so she wouldn't have to deal with this fear. It made her feel useless and pathetic and. . .weak.

Where was her Gryffindor courage? She was sorted into the house of bravery for a reason, so where was her strength? Belatedly she realized she lost all of it when Harry and Ron left her. She looked onward at the shadowed figure. Her knees felt weak, and she staggered backwards to the wall. Of all the times she had to go down this hallway, it had to be now. She cursed her continuous stream of bad luck, and literally stared death in its non-existant eyes. She attempted to muster any remaining courage and raised her wand. Her hand was trembling, as was the rest of her body, but she supposed that couldn't be helped. She wracked her brain trying to remember if she came across such a creature in her reading, but she didn't. She couldn't think of a single time such a thing had ever been recorded.

It bared its teeth at her, exposing her jagged, black, razors of ivory. They were coated in an oil-like substance that smelled foul. Maggots crawled in between disclosing how decayed the body beneath was. Hermione felt a wave of nausea pass over her, vertigo claiming her mind. She struggled to stay upright. How any creature could be so malevolent was beyond her.

It breathed down her neck and Hermione began to gag. Its breath permeated the air, scenting it the air with what could only be described as death.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione screamed, finally coming to her senses.

The creature kept moving closer, the spell completely ineffective. How was that possible? Her eyes widened with understanding. This was a creature in which no magic would work. Hysteria settled into her blood. She was powerless. Fear clogged her throat, adrenaline surged through her. She turned around to run. She began running, but when she looked behind her, all she could look at was the beast. It was patiently waiting, but it wasn't looking at her, it was looking _past_ her.

She followed its gaze, and froze.

Hermione decided then that she really did have the shittiest luck. She locked eyes with another student. A student whose hair was as pale as ivory and eyes as cold as silver. His sleeves were rolled up, a dark design commanding all attention against his pale skin. The mark moved as though it were alive, the snake twisting over and over on his forearm. The Dark Mark.

Against her better judgement, she ran to him.

"Malfoy!" She screamed.

He didn't hear her, his eyes were locked on the monster behind her. She ran to him, grabbing onto his arm in an attempt to shake him out of his reverie. He quickly glanced at her, grabbing her arms by the wrist in a vice-like hold. She yelped in pain, attempting to free herself from his hold. He gripped tighter, and threw her into the stone wall. She whimpered in pain, her shoulder throbbing after hearing a sickening crack. He glared hard at her before sending curses in the way of the monster. All of them deflected, but he still tried. She could see the panic settle in, his eyes widening with understanding. So, he had come to the same conclusion as she. Hermione tried to send a few hexes of her own, but they were futile. The creature moved towards her, completely disinterested in the blonde boy to her left.

She began to tremble violently. What did she do to gain the creature's attention? It came forward, merely inches away from her again. Her heart was pounding painfully in her ribcage. She could feel the air escape her lungs, leaving her gasping. She couldn't breathe. Its long, bony fingers formed from the shadows reaching for her. She tried to move, but she couldn't. She was bound by some invisible force to the stone. She glanced down to the floor, her eyes landing on her discarded wand. She felt entirely hopeless in that moment.

She could distantly hear her name being called, but it was blocked as the screeching started again. Hermione screamed as the sound pierced her ears once more. It barred its teeth exposing her to its decay. It reached for hr chest, its dagger-like nails piercing the skin around her heart. She screamed.

Pain. White, blinding, searing pain. It was all she could feel. It began in her heart, slowly expanding outwards through her veins. It was as though her blood was slowly bursting into flame. Boiling. She felt as though she were burning from the inside. This was the true meaning of physical pain. It was dealt with a worse blow than any cruciatus curse. It was pure agony. Her throat was hoarse from the screaming, but she didn't even notice. She couldn't feel anything other than what this thing was inflicting.

She couldn't breathe. She felt only inflicted torment. Slowly her vision became black around the edges. Her body became numb, feeling delicately eradicated. She willingly surrendered herself to unconsciousness.


	3. Senseless

_**A.N.: **Thank you to everyone for reading so far! Don't worry, my favourite male character will be introduced very soon. Also any criticism or critics would be greatly appreciated! As always, Enjoy! :)_

* * *

_"They say that everything happens for a reason. That everything we do in life is predestined. We are all just along for the ride. But who are 'they'? Who decides how my life is to be played out? What do our souls gain from living life through someone else's eyes?_

_I'm breaking free of my destiny._

_I'm turning left instead of right._

_And what will 'they' say about this?_

_Why, that's one of the greatest questions life can offer." - Hermione Granger's Journal._

* * *

Hermione awoke in darkness. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking profusely. She still couldn't escape the darkness though. She felt the sensation of her eyes opening. She blinked as tears began to form due to the dryness. Her heart pounded within her chest. She couldn't see. _Had she gone blind?_ She didn't think it was likely, but the thought alone terrified her.

She searched her robes for her wand, but her pockets came up empty. Panic settled within her. Where was her wand? That was when she faintly recalled seeing it tossed aside on the floor.

A ball of dread settled deep into her stomach. Her mind was racing now. Just where _was_ she? Her last memory was of that. . .thing digging its claws into her. Oh, Merlin! Had she _died_? Was this what the infamous fabrication of death truly was? Just an absolute void of _nothing_?

Hysteria took ahold of her. Her breathing became fast and shallow. She could feel herself begin to shake violently. Suddenly, her body went cold. Very cold. Her feet became numb in a matter of seconds. Her hands weren't far to follow.

What if she was left here? How long would she be left here? Hermione undoubtedly knew that if she were to play out the rest of her existence alone in this suffocating darkness, she'd go mad. Sure she'd gradually become used to being a 'lone wolf' as of late, but that didn't mean she no longer found comfort in the presence of others. The thought of not seeing another soul again. . .she began hyperventilating.

* * *

It's funny how time works when you're left in a place filled with nothing. What feels like five minutes could only be five seconds, or as long as five hours. All of time is simply forgotten. Hermione was aware of its passing, but she couldn't decipher how long she had played victim to its silence. She could feel it moving all around her, never stopping. She could tell herself that time was frozen, that it wasn't passing. She knew she'd be convincing herself of a lie. It was always flowing, twisting, warping itself in some new fantastic way. She just had to accept that.

She had stopped hyperventilating a while before, but how long before, she couldn't say. In the end she'd just become rather bored. With nothing but her thoughts as a companion, and all of her senses robbed from her, Hermione felt alone. Completely and utterly alone.

She moved her arm, gasping from a sharp pain. It was a shooting sensation traveling from the joint of her shoulder down to her elbow. Had she been hit by a spell or hex? She didn't think so. Then what could have caused this injury? Her blood ran cold as she remembered.

_Malfoy._

She felt like groaning in stupidity. She winced at the memory of him pushing her into the stone wall. In his defense, he was under tremendous pressure, but she didn't think it would kill him to be gentle. She snorted at that thought. Malfoy? Gentle? It wasn't bloody likely that he knew the meaning of the word. He was as much a Slytherin as she was a Gryffindor.

What had happened to him, though? One minute he was throwing her at walls, the next he was helping her fight that. . .thing. He seemed unfamiliar with the beast as well, his fear as evident as hers. So it was dark magic, but one that he wasn't accustomed to. She knew it was unfair to assume that he knew almost every type of spell or object containing dark or forbidden magic, but knowing his track record, it couldn't be helped.

She did wonder if he was okay. She knew it was ridiculous to concern herself over Malfoy's well being, but she couldn't help it. She blamed it on her human empathy.

She didn't even know if it was a magical being at all. The way it deflected all of the spells, almost absorbing the magic. She shuddered. She hoped she never had the misfortune of meeting such a creature ever again.

Hermione immediately stilled. She held her breath, imagining what could be out there. Perhaps she was the only one, but she wasn't aware of the limits of this place.

Was it just a room, or something more?

She didn't want to dwell on that thought. The prospect of not being alone suddenly became very frightening.

Hermione knew then that she wasn't alone. There was something out there. She felt her nerve endings dance all over her body. She felt the sudden awareness of another being. Another entity. Hermione Granger wasn't alone.

She heard a light footfall.

Hermione spun around in the direction of the sound. She strained to hear what was all around her. She focused on everything, pointedly ignoring the sound of her heart beating wildly within her ribcage. But there was no sound. There was absolutely nothing. Hermione wanted to scream.

There was silence. an absolute deafening silence. It was a silence that was unlike anything she'd ever heard. It was just nothing.

A hand placed itself upon her shoulder.

Hermione jumped, her heart racing. A thousand thoughts and questions ran through her mind.

"Please tell me you're human." the speaker whispered as though tentative to break the silence. It was a male voice, deep and powerful. Hermione felt her shoulders sag slightly in relief. So it wasn't some creature hellbent on disposing of her. She could have cheered.

"Yes, yes I am." Hermione breathed with a sigh of relief.

The cool wood of a wand grazed her throat. The man was close to her now, she could feel it. She felt their breath graze her face, the heat from his body radiating off of him in waves. His hand was heavy on her shoulder, but she didn't mind. She blamed being starved of human interaction. It was comforting to know that there was someone else stuck in there with her.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" He asked. Hermione debated whether or not to disclose her identity. If it were a fellow student, she could risk being abandoned. After all, who would want to be stuck within this hell with her?

"Can you see me?" She asked instead. She could only hope he was fooled by her change in subject.

"Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?" He asked once more. His voice darkened with venom. His grip on her shoulder tightened, crushing her injury. She yelped in pain. She swallowed, fear clogging her throat.

"I don't see how it's of any importance. The more pressing concern I have is whether or not you can see me, because I cannot see you." She snapped. She made her decision, therefore she was standing behind it.

"Fine, don't tell me. Give me a bloody nickname then, just so I don't call you 'girl' or 'bint' for that matter." He growled "And no, I cannot fucking see you. If you haven't noticed, it's pitch black in here. I wouldn't be asking for something as inconsequential as your name if I could see you."

Hermione could practically envision a sneer on the speaker's face. She felt affronted. She didn't know what she had done to cause his great displeasure, but she didn't bother to dwell on it for long. Most people hated her anyway. She had already established that every person she met found something repulsive within her. This was the conformation she had been looking for. Not only was her exterior entirely unpleasant, but her interior as well. She could do nothing more than frown.

"I suppose you can call me. . .Rose. But what am I to call you?" She doubted he would give away his real name seeing as she was reluctant to give her own.

"Well, _Rose_, you have the fortune of calling me Adonis." She just _knew_ that he was smirking.

"Not bloody likely. Give me another name." She rolled her eyes. Brilliant. She was stuck with a pompous ass.

"Fine. Call me Eros. And you have no say in that matter, I will respond to nothing else." His voice was light, teasing.

"Not even self-absorbed, egotistical prat?" She countered. _Eros_ was seemingly hellbent on making this experience of nothing worse than it could be otherwise.

"Especially not to that." His voice darkened once more, reminding Hermione that she should probably make an effort to be somewhat less rude. She just wasn't used to people not knowing her. She was either known as the bookworm, the leftovers from the Golden Duo, the know-it-all prefect. She had to admit, it was remarkably refreshing.

"Shame." She muttered. She held her breath. She shifted uncomfortably, her legs growing weary. She just wished she had someplace to sit down. She hadn't realized how much she depended upon her sight.

"Anyway, if we're done with this _lovely_ chat, do you have any idea how to get out of here?" She quickly asked. She was determined again. She didn't know how much time had passed, she just knew she'd been locked within the abyss for too damn long.

"If I knew of a way out I wouldn't be wasting my breath on the likes of you." Was _Eros_' snarky reply.

"Are you in Hufflepuff? You're so compassionate." Hermione's voice dripped with sarcasm.

She blindly began walking forward. His hand never left her arm, so she assumed that meant he was just as lost as her. He didn't respond, only scoffed as though the idea were offensive.

If Hermione had to guess, she would assume he was a Slytherin.

* * *

It had been at least a few hours. _Eros_ and Hermione had been walking forward, attempting to find at least a wall, or end, or _something._ She hadn't realized just how large the room she was in actually was. As far as she was concerned, they were the only two there. At one point she had finally lost it and started screaming in the likelihood someone would hear her. _Eros_ ended up covering her mouth, promising a horrid life if she were to continue her shouting.

Bloody git had his wand too. It didn't work, much to their mutual dismay. He went on a mini rampage, firing hexes and curses and more than a few Unforgivables in Hermione's direction, all of them being useless. Even her hope of a simple _lumos_ was too much to ask for. But even having it in his possession seemed to make him feel a bit better.

"Should we stop walking? Maybe take a break or something?" Hermione asked. Her feet were killing her, and her legs were slowly turning to jelly.

"No." was his curt response. He gripped onto her upper arm, dragging her along with him. She had to struggle to keep up with his long strides.

They hadn't spoken much. Hermione was rather grateful for that. Any conversation was awkward and short. Both seemed equally determined to eradicate themselves from the other's presence.

He suddenly stopped. Hermione ran into his back unknowingly.

"I thought you said we weren-"

"Shut up and _listen."_

Eros covered her mouth with his hand, so Hermione acquiesced. She strained her ears, trying to hear what he was referring to.

That was when she heard it.

Water.

"Is there water nearby?" She asked. The sound was muffled by his hand, but he didn't remove it. Hermione sighed.

"I think so. Come on!" He began walking faster, dragging her along side. She was practically jogging by his side. She didn't complain though. There was an undeniable tone in Eros' voice. It was something that made her dispel any complaints and just agree. It was something that made you eager and excited and anxious. Yet it still managed to instill a pure trepidation.

Hope.

They were both running now. Eros grabbed Hermione's hand, willing her to go faster. She huffed but did so anyway. If there was water. . .she didn't want to raise her hopes even more.

But how would they know if they found it? Would they run in by accident? She hadn't stopped to consider that before, but it seemed likely. The sound was getting louder now. Crashing water filled her ears.

She ran faster. She _needed_ to get there now. She pushed her exhausted body to go faster. She ignored every signal telling her to stop.

Eros stopped again, pulling her to him. She was panting, wondering what the hell he was doing this time.

"Why did you stop? We're getting closer!" Hermione complained, pulling on his hand. Eros had to understand. He had to.

"Rose?" Eros' voice was soft.

"What?" She asked. She still had trouble catching her breath, and was secretly annoyed at his already calm breathing.

"I don't think that's water." Eros was completely still now.

Hermione's blood ran cold. Her eyes widened in fear. The irrational emotion was already taking ahold of her.

"Then. . .what is it?" She didn't want to ask. She really didn't. She dreaded the answer that would escape his lips.

"I don't know." Eros replied. His voice was near inaudible. She knew he was trying to mask the fear in his voice, but it was there. The soft quivering within his voice. That small reflection of his fear shook her more than she thought it should. If he was scared, she should be terrified. A knot twisted in her stomach. She wet her suddenly dry lips.

"So what do we do?" She asked, her voice mirroring his.

"Fuck! I don't know!" He shouted. His hold on her tightened once more. She flinched at the volume of his voice.

"I don't know." Eros repeated, his voice deflated. He sounded utterly defeated. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She tentatively put her hand on his shoulder, attempting to offer her some comfort. He flinched, but didn't back away from her. Well, it was a start.


	4. Hysteria

**_A.N.:_**_ Hey guys! Sorry it's taken so long to update. Winter break just ended, and I'm officially swamped with schoolwork. Thanks for waiting! Here's chapter 4. __Enjoy :)_

* * *

_"Fear. We all have a predisposition of this emotion. Where does this knowledge come from? _

_How are we so aware of our souls most realized fears?_

_Every fear we've ever felt, we've experienced. Why do you hate snakes without any actual reason to? Because somewhere, somehow, in some lost time, it caused you you to be scared. It created this ambiguous feeling that will forever be instilled within you. Forever ingrained in your soul. And there's no way to escape it._

_Fear. It's not uncontrollable. It controls you." - Hermione Granger's Journal._

* * *

Hermione's hand hesitated over Eros' shoulder. She delicately lifted her hand away from his body, noticing how the silence stretching between them was beginning to become slightly awkward. Eros shifted, as did Hermione. Neither wanted to break the silence, yet it yearned to be filled. She cleared her throat, almost wincing at how loud the innocent action seemed.

"So, what are we going to do?" She finally asked aloud. She meant it more for herself than him, but she jut _needed_ to break that silence.

She felt him stiffen beside her. Perhaps that wasn't the greatest way to begin a conversation. Hermione chastised herself. Of course he wouldn't want to talk about that. He was clearly uncomfortable with not knowing what was going on, as was she. But she had to go ahead and bring up _that_ of all things. She really was inept at simple conversations. She'd been left without social interactions for too long. Her skills were clearly lacking. She was such an idiot. She was finally conversing with someone, after _weeks_ of isolation, and she had to go ahead and butcher everything.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? I don't know every bloody thing that happens in this place. I don't even know how fucking long I've been in here." Eros snapped. Malice intertwined with his voice, making it impossibly deeper. She couldn't help but feel a stung by his harsh words. They were expected, and not even that bad, but it made Hermione feel like a failure, and she didn't have the slightest clue why. Shame fluttered through her, reminding her that she was just as socially awkward as she thought. She would be mad at herself too, if she summed up enough energy to feel more than just one emotion. If you could call numbness an emotion.

"I'm sorry. It was a stupid question." She muttered, her cheeks ablaze. She felt like face-palming.

Eros maneuvered his body so he was across from her. She could feel his every movement as though it were her own. Her awareness of him startled her. He sighed, the sound exuding his overall hopelessness.

"Just, don't ask that again." He mumbled. There was still an undeniable edge to his voice. Hermione knew that was as close to an apology as she was going to get, but she didn't mind. She wasn't really worthy of an apology anyway.

* * *

Suddenly, there was a flash. It was like lightning, illuminating everything around them for less than a second. The phosphorescence momentarily blinded her, leaving her seeing its negative twin thereafter. But it was long enough to see her surroundings. It was long enough to take in the true horror of their predicament.

They weren't alone.

In fact, they were far from it. Hermione's blood ran cold. Eros was right. It wasn't water they'd heard, yet oh how she wished it was. The idea of liquids had long since lost their appeal on her dehydrated body, but it was suddenly the most longed for idea she'd ever had. It wasn't water around them.

It was laughter.

Laughter that sounded like a hiss, escaping throats in a strangled wheeze. Those. . ._things._

Hermione suddenly had the urge to curl up into a ball and just escape. She never wanted to be alone more in that moment. The darkness had long since returned, but the image of those foul creatures would forever be ingrained within her mind. She would never be able to sleep peacefully again. Eros was silent beside her, most likely as much in shock as her. She didn't see him, but in that moment, she didn't care. She just wanted to grab his hand and _run._

The laughter escaped from creatures that were small, she would guess around two feet at most. But the size of the creature didn't matter. Its structure was skeletal, every bone stood out against decaying flesh. The spines were curved, as though they were incapable of keeping up the weight of their skull. Every vertebrae within the spine was dangerously close to ripping the near-transparent skin. Their fingers ended in talons, the points resembling daggers. Each nail was curved, the tip an oily-black and near the cuticle it was a decayed yellow.

Their body's brought to mind decay. Centuries of rotting flesh and malnutrition. The fact that each creature was living, breathing, was an anomaly to Hermione. Their inner organs stretched the epidermis, and every slow heartbeat could be seen.

She was convinced she was going to be sick. Bile rose within her throat, and all she could do was close her eyes and cling to Eros. He seemed to be in as much a state of shock as her. Her entire body was shaking violently, she was gripped by fear. Her ability to see had been robbed as soon as it was given to her yet she knew she would never get the image of those. . .things out her mind. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw their skeletal figures, hunched over and staring at her with ravenous, murderous eyes.

To Hermione, the eyes were one of the worst parts.

They were reflective, yet filmed over with grey. She could faintly see them now, amidst the darkness that consumed them. They were sunk deep into the sockets, as though jammed into the skull. The eyes were all hungry, driven to the point of madness.

If they weren't so grotesque, she might have felt the slightest amount of pity for these things.

Their noses were short and flat, yet tapered off into a point. It looked like an odd combination of snout and beak. Hermione didn't dwell on the combination long, she was too preoccupied by its other prominent featue. Its mouth.

Teeth that resembled fangs hung nearly an inch from the gums of the monster. Non-existant lips curled back, exposing them further. The gums were black with decay, the teeth yellow and rotting. But it didn't deteriorate from the frightening qualities, if anything, it struck Hermione with fear all the more.

She let out a whimper. She felt sick. Her knees locked beneath her, she had to struggle to keep her balance. Her breathing was coming in short, shallow bursts. Eros clung to her, his arms wrapping around her body. He was shaking too, his fear radiating off of him in waves. He rested his head atop of hers, pulling her tighter to him. She let him. She needed to feel his heat, his _humanity._

They weren't alone. They had never been alone. They were being watched the entire time. The knowledge made her feel violated and very much like prey seconds before the predator struck. She wished she had her wand. She wished she never walked down that stupid _fucking _hallway.

The laughter grew louder. Before it was like a faint buzzing, but now it was all encompassing. The sound formed a ring around Eros and her, surrounding them with the cacophony. It was nearly comical how they previously believed the sound to be of water. Water was always associated with peace, with tranquility. The laughter that enveloped her was anything but. The sound ricocheted within her skull, its harsh cry damaging her ears. She held tighter to Eros. She didn't care if he didn't want to hold onto her or not.

Gryffindor courage. She needed it right now. Craved it. But it just wasn't possible. Hermione had just finished getting over that. . .thing that accosted her in the hall. The idea of facing these creatures so soon thereafter was a feat she considered impossible.

"Rose?" Eros whispered, his voice barely audible. She nodded her head, distrusting her voice.

"D-Do you know what they are?" He asked, his stutter betraying his fear. She clung tighter to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. If she wasn't so scared, she would have paused to admire the masculinity of his form, but she didn't even notice. She was too far gone to take note of anything superficial.

She could only shake her head. Tears threatened her eyes. She didn't know what was provoking this terror within her. Sure those creatures were grotesque and unequivocally horrifying, but they shouldn't have the ability to immobilize her with fear. Yet they did.

She heard him swear under his breath. He held her tighter, a light tremor passing through his body. She could feel it. Feel _him_.

It was shitty timing, but she gasped in surprise. She hadn't noticed before, but she could _feel_ him. Hermione could feel his body pressed against hers, melting away her icy exterior. The walls she'd built were being torn down by a simple gesture. She could feel the warmth of his palms pressing against her back. She could feel the heat of his body as he held her tighter to him. Soft breath blew onto her cheek, sensitizing her nerves. She hadn't felt this way before. Not even with. . .Ron.

She closed her eyes, even though there was no point. The difference of keeping them open and closed had begun to blur. Hermione was convinced that she'd never be able to see again. She paused. She didn't want her last sight to be of those. . .things.

She froze.

Where was the laughter? It was deafening merely seconds before, but now it was silent. It was a silence that terrified her. All sound had ceased. She could hear her breathing mingling with his. She could hear the thud of her heart as it beat wildly within her chest. Hermione could hear everything going on within her body, yet there was nothing else. She vaguely felt him shaking her, rocking her back and forth.

The warmth of his body began to dissipate. Hermione shuddered. She held tighter to him, clinging to his warmth, but it was slipping away.

"Eros?" She called, his body loosening its hold. She could feel him begin to slip away from her. She tried to follow him, but it was damn near impossible in the darkness.

"Eros?" Hermione screamed. Where had he gone? Where was he? She needed him. She loathed to admit it, but in the long hours that had passed, she had become accustomed to him. He allowed her to be herself and didn't hate her for it. She already longed for his scathing remarks. Where the fuck was he? Why did he leave her alone? How could he do this to her?

She was once again on her own.

The light flashed again. But this time, it stayed white. There was no darkness. There was nothing but white. Hermione squinted her eyes, straining to see, but there was nothing. Her eyes burned, the light blinding her momentarily. She felt tears prick her eyes, causing her greater discomfort.

Pain. White, searing, burning pain flashed through her. What the hell was going on? She doubled over, clutching her shoulder. She could feel the throbbing of her entire arm. What had she done?

With that final thought ringing through her head, Hermione Granger opened her eyes.

This time, she could see.


	5. Confusion

_**A.N.: **__Hopefully this chapter is provides some clarity for some of the more confusing aspects of this story. It's kind of a filler, so I apologize if it's on the boring side. And I apologize for not being able to update sooner, it's exam week. Oh, and feel free to inbox me, I love hearing feedback! __Anyway, Enjoy :)_

* * *

_"The red sun burns to ashes, and under its flame we are left with dust. _

_The warm yearning is building inside of my heart, scorching the tips of my fingers with a curiosity I have never known. _

_The medication was chemical burn, and the fire coursed throughout my temple until I exhaled smoke, and took a glance at the shape of hell I created." - Hermione Granger's Journal._

* * *

A dull buzzing filled her ears as light filtered into the room through large windows. The harshness of the light blinded her, her eyes watering at the brightness. Hermione was alone. She stared up at the ceiling, noticing how far it seemed from her. The arches were grand, and more curved than she remembered. The large windows were opposite her, and she counted thirteen of them. The sheets that covered her body were thin, the stiff fabric doing nothing to ease her into slumber. The mattress beneath her was hard, yet conformed to her shape effortlessly. There wasn't the slightest hint of Gryffindor colors anywhere. That could only have meant one thing. She cringed.

She was in the hospital wing.

As though summoned by the nature of her thoughts, an aging medi-witch appeared immediately by her side. Worry lines were etched deep into her face, her movements were swift and assured.

"I'm so happy to see you're awake, Hermione. You were unconscious for nearly two days! How are you feeling?" Madam Pomfrey rattled off, preparing a potion by Hermione's side.

She wet her chapped lips, willing herself to speak coherently. Her tongue felt swollen from the lack of use, her throat burned. Her head throbbed painfully. She mustn't have heard those words right

"What do you mean I was unconscious for two days?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat, wincing at the painful action.

That didn't make any sense. She and Eros had been walking in that darkness. She opened her eyes only minutes before. Where had that time gone? It had seemed like a matter of seconds. Hermione frowned, wincing when she tried to move her shoulder. She immediately put her hand atop of the wound, thinking it would offer some comfort. It was still tender and hurt whenever she used it, but overall it wasn't as unbearable as it was before.

"Well, a student found you on the seventh floor in one of the hallways. He carried you down here himself. You've been unconscious ever since. Now tell me Miss Granger, what do you remember?" Madam Pomfrey eyed her suspiciously. She could practically see the list of diagnosis' going through the old healer's mind.

"I was just going for a walk and. . ." Hermione trailed off.

That thing. What had it done to her? Who had saved her? Thousands of questions ran through her mind. Who would want to help her? But her more pressing concern, was what that thing was. She froze. Hermione had a feeling this was a topic that she couldn't just bring up casually in conversation. She had to keep it to herself.

"And?" The mediwitch prompted.

"And nothing. I don't remember anything after that. I'm sorry," Hermione fibbed. Madame Pomfrey eyed her, clearly seeing through her lie. Nonetheless, the healer handed her a rancid potion, telling her how it was to speed up the healing. She was required to stay for the night at least.

The healer turned away, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She didn't like the direction they were taking.

If she'd been found in the corridor then. . .everything; the creatures, Eros, _every fucking little thing. . ._wasn't real_. _

It was all just a dream.

* * *

Hermione didn't sleep that night. She had gotten out of bed once since waking. To her horror, the bottoms of her feet were coated in a foul substance. It was black, inky, and dried much like water. The grime had stained her sheets, smearing charcoal grey amidst the cotton-white. She hastily _scourgified_ herself and the bed, her mind and heart racing.

Nothing added up. Her feet were sore, as though she'd been walking on them for hours on end. Her calves were tight, the muscles screaming at her. But that wasn't what confused her most.

It was the smell.

While she hadn't noticed it in the abyss, just one whiff of herself, and she was reminded of it. It clung to her clothes, her hair, her skin. It smelled foul, and musty. It was as though she was locked in a damp cave for days, left to bask in the putrid scent.

Upon the discovery, she immediately demanded the frazzled mediwitch for access to the showers. She nodded, and Hermione had to stop herself from sprinting. She felt thoroughly disgusted. As soon as the water was warm, she quickly charmed the water to smell like roses and vanilla, hoping it would wash everything away. She scrubbed her skin raw, needing to see her skin go red. Even when she roughly cleaned herself six times, she still felt as though she reeked of that. . .what was it anyway? An abyss, a void, an absolute nothingness? It had to be something. Tears of frustration blurred her vision.

She'd gone mad. She was sure of it. Everything had seemed so real. Even now, even when she could _see,_ she felt devoid of her senses, of was like she was still lost within the abyss.

* * *

Hermione lay atop the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. She assumed it was well past dinner hour, but she didn't care. She hadn't eaten all day, but she didn't have much of an appetite. Madame Pomfrey had checked on her twice, fretting over her withdrawn state, demanding she take her potions, and asking her if she wanted to send any of her friends down. Hermione hadn't responded. The awkward silence hung between the two witches as the healer came to understand. There was no one. The mediwitch hadn't spoken to Hermione since, and for that she was grateful.

It sent Hermione onto a downward spiral. Was she so starved of human interaction that her mind conjured this grandiloquent tale just appease her own conscience? She didn't doubt it. Her mental health must be deteriorating for this level of insanity. Hermione didn't speak, didn't eat when Madame Pomfrey set down a tray of food beside her bed. She didn't do anything but stare at the ceiling.

She felt fatigue itch her eyes, but she didn't want to surrender to its call. She had spent the last two days sleeping anyway. She knew it was silly, and she could tell herself any lie, but the truth always stared her in the face.

She was scared.

She was scared that when she closed her eyes, she would return to that place. But even more than that, she was scared that she wouldn't. It didn't make any sense. How could she hate something so much yet want to return to it. That was the clarifying factor. Hermione decided then and there that she truly must be mad.

After three hours of coming up with possible scenarios, fatigue claimed her mind, willing Hermione to close her eyes. She lay back against the hospital bed, attempting to make herself comfortable. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to prevent sleep much longer, Hermione gave up the fight, and attempted to quell her nerves.

She could feel herself relaxing, teetering in between the space of consciousness and R.E.M. That was when sleep overcame her.

* * *

POV: Madame Pomfrey

Not even ten minutes later, Madame Pomfrey checked on Hermione. The mediwitch neared the bed, another potion in her hand. She just hoped the girl had eaten her dinner.

Hermione's state bothered her. She'd lost weight, her skin was paler than before, dark circles sunk beneath her eyes. Her hair was still curly and slightly on the bushy side, but it had lost its life. She had lost her sense of life. The thing that disturbed the old woman most was her eyes. Madame Pomfrey could remember the first time she ever met Hermione. She had this undeniable spark in her honey-brown orbs. Even that had changed though, her eyes now carrying a dullness, devoid of the unique spark. They were filled with emptiness.

As Madame Pomfrey pushed aside the curtain blocking view to her bed, she dropped her potion. She dully registered the sound of shattering glass. She brought a hand to her mouth to suppress a startled cry. The healer started panicking. This wasn't possible. She had placed a charm so that nobody could leave without her saying it was okay. She glanced down, taking in the strange charcoal-colored substance that was smeared all over the sheets. A faint musty smell hovered in the air, making the healer gag slightly. She held a hand over her racing heart, before turning around and running to McGonagall.

Hermione Granger was gone.

* * *

POV: Hermione Granger

Hermione opened her eyes. She groaned. She was there again. Why did this keep happening? Once was bad enough. She opened and closed her eyes multiple times, just as she did the first time she found herself here. But it was all in vain. She still found herself unable to see.

"Rose?" A soft voice called. She was confused. Who was Rose? Who was there with her? She froze, not wanting to give herself away. Hermione paused, wondering why she wasn't as scared as she thought she should be. Then it clicked.

She recognized that voice.

Her heart picked up its pace, her breathing stilled.

"Eros?" She asked, her voice almost inaudible. This couldn't be happening. This seriously _wasn't_ happening. Hermione was confused. This was a dream, right? Then why did she have no control over it? Why did it keep reoccurring?

"Salazar's soul, what the fuck are we doing here again?" He sounded furious. His ever-present control was thinning.

"I don't know," She sighed, "where are you?" She blindly stuck her arms out in front of her, her fingertips grazing soft material. She fisted the material, betraying her fear of their predicament. She supposed that answered her question. She could still feel the fury radiating off of him in waves, but she momentarily ignored it. She just needed human contact.

"Do you mind getting off of me?" He asked. His voice was clipped, as though he were seconds away from throwing her off of him.

Immediately, she lightened her grip, but still kept her hand on his shoulder. There was no way in hell she was going to lose him again. She stilled.

Where had that thought come from? She didn't want to lose him again? What kind of bullocks was that? She was acting so out of character it scared her. She began to retract her hand all together, but his hand covered hers, keeping it there. His grip was rough and strong, and he clearly didn't want her touching him, but he kept it there nonetheless.

"I don't know about you, but I'm seriously _pissed _right now." Eros confessed, the tension in his voice screaming malice. Hermione shrunk away slightly at the sound.

"Why?" She asked. She hoped that talking about it would ease some of his anger.

"Because I'm here. Because I don't know how the _fuck_ to get out. Because I can't _fucking see_, and I don't know who the _fuck_ you are. I don't know what those creatures are. I don't know what the _fuck_ is going on." Eros ranted. His voice gradually rising, until he was almost shouting in her face. His body was as tense as a bow, his hold on her hand nearly cutting off circulation. He was livid. His chest was rising and falling at an alarming pace. She stood still, shocked at how much he confessed.

"I'm sorry, I wish there was some way that we could get out, but I don't know how." Hermione admitted, utterly defeated. She sighed, He remained silent, his breathing was the only sound filling her ears.

"What happened before?" She asked him, switching subjects. She hoped that he was in the mood for a distraction, because she certainly didn't want to dwell on his rage at the moment.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He demanded.

He slid his hand down her arm. The simple act made her pause. Every nerve ending was ablaze as he continued path. His hand left a trail of fire in its wake. He moved it down her shoulder, applying light pressure to her shoulder. His hand continued its journey down her side, caressing her body as it moved, before finally resting it on her hip. His other hand repeated the motion. Hermione trembled slightly. What was going on? What was a seemingly innocent action to him had effectively awakened her body. His grip wasn't gentle at all, more rough than anything else. He wasn't caressing her, merely finding some way to rest his arms.

Hermione lost her train of thought. All she could think about was the pressure and heat resting upon her hips. His body was closer to hers now. She could still feel the anger and tension, but she was vaguely aware that those emotions seemed to be ever-present.

In a way, she was kind of furious at his audacity. On the other hand, she was furious at herself.

She wet her suddenly dry lips, attempting to ignore her rising body heat. She was frustrated by her reaction. She had been in her contentedly numb state for nearly four months, and all it took was to feel him for her world to be shattered. She felt emotion again, and was annoyed because she didn't know whether to feel infuriated or elated. Her annoyance of such a decision was further proof of its awakening.

Her mind, against her incessant pleading, began to dwell on the past. She tensed in fear as memories assaulted her. She remembered Ron's resentment, his cold fury. It was so unlike him that it terrified her. She knew the moment he glared at her that they were over. Whatever beginnings of a relationship were building were effectively destroyed with one withering glare.

He didn't understand what was happening. He misread everything. He didn't know. Hermione could feel tears begin to fill her eyes. She scolded herself, telling herself that he wasn't worth her tears, but she couldn't help it.

The memories kept coming. She was a prisoner of her own mind. She couldn't dwell on these thoughts, these. . .feelings. She wasn't used to it yet. Feeling. She had been numb for so long. In a twisted way, she felt as though feeling anything now was betraying Ron even further. As though if she were to begin continuing her life, she was just proving his thoughts to be right.

She must really be mad.

"Rose, are you okay?" Eros asked, drawing her out of her reverie. Her head snapped in his direction. She realized then that she was shaking. Tears wet her face. She reached up and wiped at her eyes furiously.

"I'm fine." She replied. Her voice trembled, still thick with emotion.

"Bullocks. What's wrong?" He asked.

Hermione drew in a hasty breath. She wasn't ready to talk about this yet. She prayed he could understand her silent plea. She begged him with her eyes, even though she knew he couldn't see. Her entire body flinched, tensing in his hold.

"Fine. Don't tell me. But I will find out eventually." Eros growled. A slight possessiveness overtook his voice, shocking her.

But that reminded Hermione of her previous question, one she had forgotten due to her attempting to become reacquainted with feeling again.

"What happened before?" She asked him hastily, not even stopping her train of thought to realize he probably didn't know what she was alluding to.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He snapped at her, wondering vaguely if she was as mad as Hermione perceived herself to be.

"Before, I don't know what happened, but you began to disappear. It was like I could feel your arms around me, but the warmth and sensation of your skin against mine just gradually disappeared. Did that happen to you too?" She rambled, needing to get to the bottom of this. Perhaps that was the cue, the sign that either one of them was reaching consciousness.

"Yeah, actually. It was like I could feel you in my arms, but I couldn't at the same time. Did you see that god-awful light too?" He asked, his curiosity overtaking him. The urgency within his voice mirrored her own. She furiously nodded her head, belatedly realizing that he couldn't see her, so she vocalized her agreement. Understanding dawned upon her.

"I think I might know what's happening." Hermione mumbled, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a singular breath. She could feel him tense beside her, excitement radiating from him. Hell, he practically _glowed. _

_"_You know what's going on? Why the fuck didn't you say something sooner?" He demanded, his excitement mixed with the slightest twinge of anger. Hermione was rather startled, she hadn't realized how adept she was becoming at reading his emotions. And she couldn't even _see_ him.

"Would you please refrain from saying that word every time you speak?" She chastised him, but continued nonetheless, "And I didn't say anything sooner, because I just thought of it. But when you opened your eyes from that light, you could see, correct?" She had to get to the bottom of this. If his experience mirrored her own, then her theory would be more plausible. At the moment, she was going off of slight intuition and some fragmented fabrication of her own uncovering.

"Yes, I could." He replied curtly. She could tell he was still figuring out what she was getting at.

"Well when I could see, I realized I was in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey said I was in there unconscious for two days." Hermione explained, hoping Eros would be able to begin piecing things together.

"I don't recall ever asking for your life story, Rose." Eros sneered. Hermione rolled her eyes, refraining herself from sighing.

"Pay attention!" She snapped.

He muttered something about 'pissy witches' before going silent. She took this as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't have been unconscious for two days, I was in here with you." Hermione explained slowly, as though she were talking to a five-year-old.

"So. . .you think we're suspended in some kind of a dream?"Eros concluded. She had to admit, she was slightly impressed he could make that assumption based on the little amount of information she had given him.

"Yeah. It's just a thought, but I can't think of any other reason for this happening." Hermione confessed. She was so sick of thinking about it.

"If this is a dream though, why aren't either you or I able to control it? Why do we have no say as to what happens?" He asked. He was clearly as confused as her. Hermione was just happy that they were both thinking along the same lines.

"I don't know, honestly. When I get out of the hospital wing, I'll go to the library to see if such a thing like this has ever happened before." Her brain was already starting to go into overdrive. She began categorizing which books she would need, and which she knew might have some minimal information. All of them were in the restricted section.

"While you do that, this weekend I'll go home. We have three libraries, so I'm sure I'll be able to find something useful." Eros said. He was distracted as well, his voice distant.

She was going to talk to him further, but froze.

Something cold ran over her feet. She yelped in surprise. He jumped too.

"Did you. . .?" Her voice trailed off.

"Yeah." He whispered. Hermione gripped tighter onto his robes. The cold came back, rushing over her feet. This time she knew what it was.

It was water.

It rose higher and higher. It had only been seconds, yet it was already halfway up her calves.

"What the hell is going on, Rose?" Eros demanded. His voice was strained. Hermione could feel her body trembling. It was cold. So cold. Her toes were already starting to go numb. She wiggled them, hoping to circulate the blood flow, but there was no use. It was up to her knees now.

"Rose, we have to get out of here." He said, pulling on her trembling hands. She stumbled after him.

"Where are we going? How do we know where we're going?" She asked. It was almost to her hips now.

"Just trust me, okay?" He snapped. He jerked on her hand, his pace quickening. She struggled to keep up with him, her legs screaming at her. She was shivering violently, goosebumps rising on her arms. She wished she could at least cast a warming charm, but she knew magic didn't work here. Water sloshed loudly behind them as they hurried. She didn't know where he was going, or how he could see where he was going. What if he ran into something or someone? She knew better than to hope anybody else was in here, but the thought of literally running into those small, horrifying creatures made her slightly sick.

He tugged on her hand, pulling her farther and faster. It didn't seem like there was anyway to escape the water. No matter how fast they went or in which direction, it kept coming. She was chest deep in the water. Every breath she took was like inhaling ice. Her body was following her command by will only, but she stumbled into Eros constantly. Her legs were going numb, her entire body freezing. She grit her teeth together to stop the chattering. Her shivering was violent, almost reminiscent of a seizure.

Above the sound of the rushing water and their splashing was a sound that made Hermione cry out in helplessness. It was the laughter.


End file.
